Normal
by N'kala
Summary: Don wishes Charlie were normal. Charlie's willing to grant that wish, but at what cost? (Set when the guys were in high school).
1. Chapter One

Title: Normal  
Author: N'kala99  
Disclaimer: They're not mine!  
Summary: Don wishes Charlie were normal. Charlie's willing to grant that wish, but at what cost?  
Author's Notes: Just a little thing floating around in my head. I started a couple drabbles with the guys as kids, and I thought it might be fun to explore it a little more. I think in another story someone mentioned Charlie pretending he wasn't a genius, but I swear I came up with that thought, too. Great minds think alike:)  
My math is a little weak, so bear with me on it. :) Also- this is slight AU. Some stuff in here may or may not fit into canon, so be warned! 

**Normal**

**Chapter One**

"Donnie! Wait for me!"

Don paused and closed his eyes as if in pain. Beside him, his best friend Jack glanced behind them.

"C'mon, man, does he _have_ to come with us?" he asked of Don, frowning at the small eight-year-old boy running towards them. "He's such a pest!"

"You're telling me," Don shot back. "I don't want him with us any more than you do, but my parents make me take him to school every morning."

Charlie caught up to them, breathing heavily from exertion. His hands gripped his backpack straps tightly as his bright brown eyes looked up at his big brother.

"Mom says to give you lunch money," he said, reaching into his pocket and holding out some money to Don. "She says you forgot to take it when you left, and she gave you some extra 'cause we have to stop at the store for some bread on the way home today."

Don snatched the money away and jammed it into his pocket, then turned and continued down the street towards the school. Jack pointedly ignored Charlie, but Charlie was too used to this to be bothered much by it. He merely hurried after the older boys.

"Yeah, that test yesterday in history was a killer," Jack stated. "I hope Sarah studied for it; she seemed to know what she was doing."

Don smirked at his friend. "Did she know you were 'borrowing' her answers?" he asked.

Jack shrugged, unconcerned, as they paused at a busy intersection just a block from the school. "Probably not. She wouldn't care, anyway."

Don shook his head. "You know, one of these days she's going to catch you. What'll you do then?"

Jack flashed him a grin. "I'll just turn up the charm. No woman can resist me."

The light changed, allowing the boys to continue on their way. Before Don could take a single step, a small hand reached out and snagged hold of his. Don recoiled in surprise and snatched his hand back, looking down at Charlie in disgust.

Charlie frowned indignantly up at his brother. "Donnie! Mom and Dad say to hold hands when crossing the street."

"Yeah, when you're with _them!_" Don snapped. "I don't want people seeing me holding your hand! It's embarrassing!"

"Listen, runt," Jack stepped in. "Just keep up with us, and you won't have to hold anybody's hand, all right?"

"Let's go," Don muttered to his friend, and started across the street.

Charlie watched them go, hesitating only briefly before running once more to catch up. He followed the two older boys as best he could, but the crowd of teenagers was thickening as they neared the high school. Within seconds, Charlie had lost them completely to the surging throngs of students. Sighing heavily, Charlie joined the crowd and headed into the building for his first class.

He knew his brother was angry with him. Donnie seemed to be angry with him all the time, though Charlie rarely understood why. At least at home, Donnie sometimes liked him. He was teaching him how to play basketball, after all. It was just when he was with his friends that Donnie hated Charlie.

Charlie wished there were something he could do to make Donnie like him. His big brother was so _cool_; he was popular, and he had so many friends. Everybody loved him. Plus, he knew all sorts of stuff, like how to play sports and things like that. Not like Charlie. Charlie didn't have any friends, and he was teased and bullied mercilessly. Donnie stuck up for him whenever he could, but he couldn't be there all the time. Charlie understood, though. It was his greatest desire to be just like his big brother.

Charlie stopped at his locker and, opening it, began to go through the books he would need for the day. He was busy trying to fit three textbooks among his notebooks and supplies that he never noticed Dylan Bradley until it was too late.

A hand grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and slammed him face-first against the lockers before releasing him. Charlie slid to the floor, his head ringing with the impact. The sound of mocking laughter filled his ears.

"Morning, freak!" Dylan taunted. "You got my homework?"

Charlie picked himself up off of the ground, holding his backpack protectively in front of himself. "I told you, Dylan. I'm not doing your work for you. Leave me alone!"

Dylan grabbed Charlie's arm and shook the child forcefully. "Maybe you should reconsider, freak. I don't really like the word 'no'."

Charlie winced at the growing pain in his trapped arm, but he stared defiantly at the eleventh grader. "Dylan, even if I did your homework for you, what makes you think your teachers will believe you did it? If you take into account your grades this year and in the previous few years, factor in your general behavior and a few other variables about your lifestyle, it would be easy for any teacher to see that the work wasn't yours. It's basic probability, and you don't need a math genius to see it."

Dylan stared dumbly at Charlie for a full minute, though whether it was from shock at Charlie's brazen attitude or the sheer effort that it took to decipher what it was that Charlie had said, Charlie didn't know. He waited for Dylan to gather his thoughts, praying for the bell to ring.

His prayers were answered. Even as the bell rang overhead, Dylan shoved Charlie back into his locker. "Whatever, freak. I'll talk to you later."

Charlie watched him go from the floor, breathing a little easier. It wasn't easy being so young and in high school, and students like Dylan Bradley simply made it more difficult. Climbing to his feet, Charlie shut his locker and hurried down the hall to his first class of the day.

* * *

" . . . can I, Donnie, _please_, can I?"

Don rolled his eyes, but on the inside he felt a flush of warmth fill him. He would never admit it to anybody, but he secretly liked the fact that Charlie admired him so much. It was good for his ego, and besides- Don liked to be better at Charlie at _some_ things.

"Sure, Charlie, you can come watch," Don agreed. "But only if you promise to sit and watch and not draw any attention to yourself. I don't want you embarrassing me."

Charlie nodded, but a grin threatened to split his face in two. The two boys were walking home from the corner store, and Charlie had found out that Donnie had made it onto the varsity baseball team this year. He was thoroughly excited for his big brother, and had begged to be allowed to watch some of the practices. Having to sit still and pretend to be invisible was a small price to pay to hang out with Donnie.

As they neared their home, Charlie ran on ahead, leaving Don to continue at his leisurely pace. By the time Don made it in the door, Charlie was already up in their father's arms, jabbering on and on about watching Don practice baseball.

"So I hear congratulations are in order," their mother's amused, melodic voice floated to Don's ears from the door to the kitchen. She smiled proudly at her eldest.

Don grinned and, handing her the bag with the bread in it, kissed her on the cheek. "Yeah, results came out today right after school. Jack made it, too."

"Then I guess this calls for a celebration!" Mary decided. "How does brisket sound?"

Don's smile broadened. "Really? That's great! Thanks, Mom."

"Donnie, you're gonna help me with the brisket," Alan stated. "Then you can tell me all about how your tryouts went." He set Charlie on the ground and patted him on the back. "Go help your mother."

Charlie moved obediently into the kitchen, grabbing his mother's hand on the way. "Come on, Mom! I'll help make the celebration dinner!"

Mary laughed and allowed her youngest to tug her into the kitchen.

* * *

Dusk was just starting to fall on the sleepy California neighborhood. A warm breeze floated through the air, carrying smells of the approaching summer just months away. With some time before evening arrived, Don decided to practice some more shots with Charlie with their basketball net in their driveway.

Teaching Charlie basketball had been Alan's idea originally. He had wanted to find some way to have both his sons spend time with each other, and the only answer he could come up with that both boys would agree to was sports. Charlie was too small for football, and he just hadn't been terribly interested in soccer. With so many houses around, baseball had to wait until they could go to a practice field. That left basketball.

Charlie was a quick study, though no one was surprised by that. What amazed his family was how much Charlie enjoyed playing. Alan and Don both were always partially stunned at Charlie's enthusiasm for something not entirely related to mathematics, and when Charlie begged Don to play for a few minutes, they wondered at the cause. Mary only smiled patiently at them; she knew they'd figure it out someday.

Charlie grinned excitedly at Don and, feinting left, drove past his brother on the right. Quickly calculating trajectory angles in his mind's eye, he threw the ball at the net. The basketball sank right in, barely grazing the rim.

Don retrieved the ball and wiped the sweat from his brow. "I'm gonna have to stop letting you win if you keep this up," he commented, his tone lightly teasing.

Charlie smirked. "You're just saying that," he shot back. "I beat you fair and square. Admit it."

"Never in a million years," Don shot back, grinning at the familiar argument. "C'mon, Buddy. Let's go inside. I've got some homework I've got to do."

Charlie bounced along beside Don. "Me too! Mr. Williams assigned me extra work on top of what we covered today, but it shouldn't take me too long. It looked real easy."

Don suppressed a wave of frustration at his brother's words. Mr. Williams was the trigonometry teacher at the high school and was notorious for being very difficult. Aside from that, Don had him as well, though not at the same time as Charlie. Don always struggled with that class, and hearing his eight-year-old brother comment on the teacher as if he were easy made him feel inferior.

Charlie was still talking away a mile a minute to his big brother, unaware that he had lost Don's attention for a moment. "Do you suppose he'll give that pop quiz on Friday? He always hints that he will, but I don't know if he forgets. None of the other kids like to remind him. I don't mind, though, they're not usually that hard. It just has the stuff we haven't done in a while."

"Whatever," Don muttered. "I need to concentrate on my homework, so go to your room and don't bug me, all right?"

Charlie paused, hearing the change in Don's tone, and he frowned in confusion. Before he could ask what was wrong, Don shoved the ball into Charlie's arms and stalked up the stairs.

Charlie watched him retreat, then looked down at the ball in his hands. It was clear that Donnie was mad at him again, but he couldn't imagine why. They had been getting along great since coming home from school, and Donnie had even joked with him while playing basketball. It was only when Charlie tried to talk about school . . .

Charlie stopped his train of thought right there. A wave of realization washed over him. Donnie had gotten mad at him because he had been talking about school. Thinking back, nearly every time Donnie got mad at him, he had been talking about school in some way. And while at school, Donnie never wanted anything to do with him.

It was all so clear to the small boy now. Now that he knew why Donnie got mad, he could change things. If Charlie never talked about school, then Donnie wouldn't get mad, and they could be friends again. The thought filled Charlie's heart with hope, and he firmly resolved to stick to this plan. With luck, Donnie would never be mad at him again.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two 

Charlie fixed his eyes firmly on the ground, following his brother and his brother's friend down the street towards the school. Donnie and Jack were talking about practice that afternoon, and Charlie was only tuned in out of partial interest. He busied himself with trying to step where Donnie stepped, hoping to match Donnie's confident stride with his shorter legs and awkward gait.

Two days had gone by since he had made his plan. So far, it seemed to be working. Don didn't seem to be mad at him much at home, and at school he had even smiled at Charlie while passing him in the hall. The smile from his brother, when there were other teenagers around, had lifted Charlie to a height of absolute delight and strengthened his resolve.

Their mother was starting to notice something, though. That much, Charlie was certain of. Their father seemed to notice nothing out of the ordinary, just like Don, but Charlie was catching his mother's curious looks out of the corner of his eye whenever he shifted the focus of conversation off of school and onto Donnie. He hoped she wouldn't say anything, though. He really liked not having Donnie be mad at him.

The trio had just crossed the street- Charlie keeping quite close to Don the entire way- when a hand snatched the back of Charlie's backpack and pulled him to the side. Charlie let out a startled cry and was spun around until he came face to face with none other than Dylan Bradley.

Dylan's expression was far from friendly. "Morning, runt. I have a bone to pick with you."

Charlie felt a shiver creep up his spine at the angry glint in Dylan's eyes.

"I finally realized what you said to me a few days ago," Dylan went on, shifting his grip from Charlie's bag to his arms. "You think the teachers think I'm too stupid to get good grades, don't you?"

"I think everyone thinks that. And if you don't let go of my brother, they're going to think you're too injured to even do the work."

Dylan and Charlie looked up at Don, who had appeared just behind Charlie's right shoulder. Jack was hovering in the distance with a few other interested spectators.

Dylan studied Don's face, clearly trying to decide if Don posed any threat to him. Finally, he straightened and shoved Charlie back into Don. Don immediately drew Charlie protectively behind him and continued to stare threateningly at the bully.

"Why are you defending him, Eppes?" Dylan demanded. "He's a freak. He ain't normal like you and me."

"If anyone's the freak, Bradley, it's you," Don shot back. "Picking on kids smaller than you. If you're so hot for a fight, then come and find me and leave my brother alone."

Dylan snorted derisively, but a slight glimmer of fear in his eyes told Don that he would never accept the challenge. Casting a livid glare at the small boy, he stalked off.

Don turned and looked down at Charlie, who was looking up at him with stars in his eyes. "You okay, Buddy?"

Charlie nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. "That was awesome, Donnie! I can't believe you said that to him!"

Don studied Charlie's face for a moment, wearing an expression that the boy couldn't identify. Finally, he nodded. "All right, then, let's get to school or we're gonna be late. C'mon."

Charlie hurried beside Donnie, almost running to keep up but not caring in the least. When Donnie didn't even tell him to walk away from them, he felt joy spread through him. _Donnie liked him_!

* * *

Jack waited until Charlie had moved off towards his locker before speaking to his best friend. "What was _that_ all about, man?"

Don looked at him, confused. "What was what all about?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "The whole superman bit, punking Dylan, the whole thing! Are you going soft on me?"

It was Don's turn to roll his eyes. "What, you think I should've let Dylan pick on Charlie? Charlie's a pain in the ass, but he doesn't deserve to get beaten up by some lowlife bully."

"Whatever, man," Jack replied. "While you were busy playing hero, I heard a couple girls talking about you. They thought you were _'so brave'_." He punctuated his statement by fluttering his eyelashes and making a face.

Color crept into Don's cheeks, but inwardly he was pleased. "Yeah? You know who?"

Jack winked slyly. "I know one of them was Jennifer Cassidy's best friend."

Don felt his blush deepen. Jennifer was in their year, and Don had been nursing a crush on her for the last year and a half, much to Jack's amusement. He had never been able to go up and talk to her, despite Jack's attempts at making him do just that. "Really?"

Jack nudged him. "Maybe she'll come up and talk to you this time. What'd'ya say?"

Don was saved, literally, by the bell as it rang to signal the start of classes. Ducking Jack's question, he tossed a farewell to his friend and took off in the opposite direction.

* * *

Nearly twenty boys in their mid-teens mulled about the baseball diamond once school was out, warming up for the practice that would last the next hour and a half. The coach was busy with a clipboard, talking to his two co-captains. Several more students were lounging comfortably on the bleachers, talking to friends or players while they waited for the practice to begin.

Charlie took this all in, then set his eyes for the familiar form of his older brother. He finally spied Donnie tossing a ball to Jack, a wide grin on his face as he and Jack shared some private joke. Once Donnie was in his sights, Charlie claimed a seat on the edge of the bleachers, apart from the rest of the crowd.

Practice seemed to go well. The players were a well-oiled machine, though this was in part due to the fact that many of the players had been on the team the year before. In Charlie's eyes, however, Donnie was clearly the best of them all. He averaged more hits than the rest, aimed with pinpoint precision, and had every play timed down to the last, perfect second. Charlie's awe for his big brother grew with each passing second.

Almost unconsciously, Charlie's mind began to process everything he saw and turn it into numbers. He took in the stances of the batters and the pitchers, the swings taken, the throws coupled with velocity and trajectory, and smaller variables like wind and noises, and found that he was able to predict with near perfect accuracy what was about to happen each time. His eyes followed his brother, noting the position of his feet and torso, the angles he created when winding up to throw the ball, the gentle breeze ruffling his hair, and Charlie knew exactly the path the ball would take, and where it would end up.

As Don's team switched sides, Charlie could hear the coach call out the line-up; Donnie would bat fifth in line. Charlie sat up straighter and watched with keen interest as each player took a turn at bat. By the time Donnie finally made it to the plate, there was one out, and three people on the bases. Don paused outside the batter's box, taking a couple more test swings.

Seemingly out of the recesses of his mind, a thought bubbled to the forefront of Charlie's brain. _I can help him_.

Charlie jerked sharply. He observed the pitcher, then turned to Don. Before he realized what he was doing, he was up and running to the fence separating the diamond from the bleachers. "Donnie!"

Don froze ever-so-slightly, then turned. A mask of irritation appeared on his face. "Charlie! What did I tell you?"

"Yeah, I know, you want me to not bother anybody, but I just thought of something!" Charlie insisted excitedly.

"Charlie, go back to the bleachers and leave me alone!" Don snapped, turning back to face the pitcher.

Charlie was nothing if not persistent. "Donnie! You have to raise your right elbow two degrees and turn your right foot inwards-."

"Charlie, you don't know what you're talking about!" Don called back, still waiting for the pitcher.

"But Donnie, he's gonna throw the ball low and inside, and you're gonna miss it!" Charlie yelled, just as the pitcher let the ball fly.

Don barely had time to acknowledge Charlie's words as he pivoted and swung with all his might at the ball, cursing inwardly when he felt it fly past his bat. He heard it whistle as it went into the catcher's mitt . . .

. . . exactly where Charlie had said it would.

Don and the catcher stared dumbly at the ball, then turned and looked at Charlie's indignant expression. Those people who had been standing near enough to hear the argument were also staring in shock at the small boy.

Don was the first to recover. "Coincidence," he muttered.

"If it is, it's a hell of one," the catcher stated. He peered curiously at Charlie.

"I bet he can't do it again," said another boy Charlie vaguely knew as the boy who collected and looked after the team's equipment. He was standing just feet away from Charlie, an intrigued look on his face as well.

"Hey, are we playing or what?" the pitcher called from the mound.

"What's going on?" The coach, Stephen Thomas, walked up to the boys. He looked down at Charlie. "Son, you should get back on the bleachers where it's safe. Andy, throw the ball back to Juan and let's get on with it."

"Coach, you've gotta see this," the equipment manager told Thomas. "This kid knew exactly where Juan was going to throw the ball and what would happen."

Thomas' face grew doubtful. "Chris . . ."

"No, I'm serious!" Chris insisted. He looked at Andy and Don for confirmation. "He did, didn't he? Watch him, Coach. Do it again, kid."

"Sir, he barely knows how to even play baseball," Don interjected.

"And how do you know that, Eppes?" Thomas asked.

Charlie spoke up. "He's my brother. He's teaching me how to play."

Thomas looked at Charlie, a dawning comprehension in his eyes. "So . . . you're the math prodigy I've been hearing all about?"

Charlie nodded, dimly aware that Don had tensed at his coach's words. Thomas nodded back, a thoughtful look passing over his face.

"Well, I have heard of cases where scientists are able to predict pitches and hits based on mathematics," he commented. "Never gave it much thought, though. Baseball is about the human heart, about instinct. Still, can't hurt to try something new. All right, kid. You tell me what's gonna happen on this next pitch."

Charlie glanced at the pitcher, then back to Thomas. "I can't do anything unless the pitcher has the ball."

Andy gave a start and stared down at the ball in surprise. Shaking it off, he threw it over to Juan, whose "Finally!" carried on the wind to their ears.

"This is ridiculous, Coach," Don insisted.

"I'll be the judge of that, Eppes," Thomas replied. "Take a stance."

With a final, irritated glare for his younger brother, Don turned back to the game. Charlie edged closer, his eyes staring firmly at the pitcher, then at Don.

"Donnie," he said. "Take a step back."

Don glanced back, the disbelieving look on his face saying more than any words ever could.

Charlie met his gaze evenly. "Just a few inches, Donnie. He's gonna try to go inside, but not as low. If you take a small step backwards and keep that stance, you'll hit it right to centerfield, landing right at the fence."

Don wasn't about to agree, but at a stern nod from Thomas, he did as he was told. Watching with eager anticipation, Juan let the ball fly. Don swung, feeling the ball connecting solidly with the bat, but didn't run. Every eye in the field followed the ball as it arced through the air and landed in the grass right in front of the fence.

"See?" Chris shouted. "I told you! I told you!"

"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes . . ." Thomas shook his head and looked down at Charlie. "That's pretty amazing, son."

Charlie shrugged. "That's math."

Thomas let out a soft chuckle. "Well, we could use some more of that on the field. How would you like to give us a hand?"

Charlie sucked in a sharp breath, surprised. His eyes darted to Donnie, but Don wasn't looking at him. He was staring at the ball still in the outfield, but he didn't seem to really be seeing it.

Charlie wasn't sure what to do. He wanted more than anything to do whatever it was Donnie was doing. If Donnie did it, then it was cool. But something told Charlie that saying yes might be a mistake. And yet . . . he wanted so much to be like Donnie . . .

"Can I think about it?" Charlie asked.

Thomas stared at him, then finally nodded. "Sure, son, but don't take too long. We have our first game in a few weeks, and I want to get a head start on this."

Charlie returned the nod, then moved back to the bleachers.

Practice lasted only ten minutes more, and then the players were dismissed. Charlie followed the team to the locker room, then waited outside for Donnie.

Several boys passed him on their way out. Most of them gave Charlie strange looks, as though they had never seen him before. Another fifteen minutes passed when Don finally emerged with Jack. Jack bid farewell to Don, gave Charlie a disgusted look, then left. Charlie ignored him, focused wholly on his brother.

Don didn't even look at him as he started for the door and began the walk home. Stunned at first, Charlie rushed to catch up. "Donnie?"

Don didn't answer.

Charlie tried again. "Donnie, you did great! You were the best player out there, no contest."

"As long as I've got you telling me what to do, right?" Don snapped.

The force of bitter resentment behind his words pulled Charlie up short. "What are you talking about?"

"You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" Don ranted, walking so fast across the street that Charlie had to run to keep up. "You couldn't do what you were told, couldn't sit quietly and not bother me. No, you had to make a big deal, make this all about you."

Something an awful lot like hate seeped into Don's words, driving a sharp blade into Charlie's gut. "Donnie?"

Don finally stopped and rounded on Charlie, startling the boy so much that Charlie actually took a few steps back. Don's eyes blazed with a fury Charlie had never seen, and for the first time in his life, he found that he was afraid of his big brother.

"Everything is always about _you_!" he yelled. "How you're so smart, a math genius, the child prodigy. Mom and Dad bending over backwards to make sure that you're taken care of before anything else, giving you your way all the time! I have to go around being known as the guy with a _freak_ for a brother! Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to have an annoying, know-it-all, tag-along, pest like you hanging around me all the time? _Do you_?"

Charlie tried to work his jaw, but no sound came out. Tears filled his eyes. This couldn't be Don speaking; not the brother he admired so much.

Don snorted. "Of course not. You wouldn't. All you care about is yourself. And you make everyone around you care about you, too. I finally get one thing I'm good at, where I can actually have people see me as me rather than the guy with the genius for a brother, and you have to take that away from me, too! I'm so sick of this, Charlie! God! Why can't you just be a normal brother instead of some super genius freak that has to follow me around?"

Without waiting for an answer, Don spun on his heel and stalked off for the house, leaving Charlie, trembling and alone.

Tears spilled onto his cheeks, sobs bubbling up from his chest and lodging in his throat. Charlie couldn't believe that Don had said such horrible things to him. Had he always felt that way about Charlie? He had to; these weren't problems that developed overnight.

_Why can't you just be a normal brother instead of some super genius freak that has to follow me around?_

Suddenly everything came sharply into focus. Don ignoring him at school, yelling at him, being mean to him . . . Charlie knew that he was special; different from other children his age. He'd never thought that that would bother anybody, but now it would seem that his genius was driving away the one person who meant the world to him.

Charlie trudged slowly home, sniffling and wiping at his eyes. Don's words came back to him, chasing each other around his head until they drowned out all other sounds. He barely noticed when he arrived at home and headed straight into his room, glad that his parents were preoccupied. He didn't want them to ask what was wrong. Now seeing what Donnie truly thought of him, he wondered if his parents didn't think it, too.

Closing the door firmly behind him, Charlie dropped his backpack on the floor and sank to the ground, his back to his door. He hugged his knees to his chest and buried his face so he could muffle his tears.

* * *

Don was so firmly ensconced in his homework that his father called his name twice before he heard him. He looked up, drawing his eyebrows together in confusion. "Dad?"

Alan smiled at his eldest son. "I'm here to tell you that dinner's ready. Go pry your brother from his books and wash up, all right?"

At the mention of his brother, Don felt a sharp stab of guilt. He smiled, though weakly, and said, "All right. Be right down."

As soon as Alan moved away, Don let out a long breath and covered his face with his hands. He had been trying to concentrate on his assignments, but his mind kept wandering away from his books. He now realized it was his conscience.

He hadn't meant to blow up at Charlie the way he had. But dammit . . . Charlie was just so infuriating! He always had to be the center of attention, and wouldn't share any of the spotlight with Don. Don usually put up with it, trying not to let it bother him, but today's practice had been the last straw.

Standing, Don moved into the hall and down to Charlie's door. He paused outside, listening for any sounds, but could hear nothing. He knocked lightly on the door.

"Charlie, dinnertime," he called. "Charlie? You in there?"

There was silence at first, then a timid, "I'm not hungry."

Another small flutter of guilt rose in Don's stomach, but he tamped it viciously down. "Come on, Charlie, Mom and Dad aren't going to let you go without dinner. Come out and wash up."

"Really, I . . . I'm not feeling too well," Charlie called back softly from behind the closed door. "I'm just gonna go to bed."

Don frowned. "Charlie . . . are you all right?"

Silence. Don could swear he heard a stifled sob, but it was so faint it might have been his imagination. The voice that responded held no tears. "I-I'm fine . . . Fine. G'night."

Don stared at the door in confusion, but finally moved away. Washing up in the bathroom, he headed downstairs.

* * *

Alan and Mary looked up at his entrance; both were sitting at the table, waiting for their sons. They smiled warmly at Don, but their smiles turned to puzzlement when they saw he was alone.

"Where's Charlie?" Alan asked.

Don sank into his customary seat. "He said he wasn't feeling well. He was just gonna go to bed."

Mary's delicate features creased into a worried frown, and she began to rise. "Maybe I should go check on him."

Alan caught her wrist and rose. "You stay and eat. I'll go see him."

Mary sank back down, but the worried frown refused to leave her face. "I hope he's all right. Did anything happen at school today?"

Don deftly avoided his mother's searching eyes. "Nothing out of the ordinary. He'll be fine, Mom. He's probably just doing this for attention."

Even as he said it, he could feel the doubt creeping up on him. He shoved that deep down and began to serve himself something to eat. Even if he hadn't meant to yell at Charlie, the little pest had it coming. In any case, he would get over it, just like he got over everything else.

* * *

Charlie let out a sigh of relief when Alan finally left, shutting the door behind him. It had taken some doing, but he finally had managed to convince his father that he wasn't feeling terribly well and just wanted to sleep. It was mostly the truth, anyway."

Charlie rolled onto his back on his bed and stared up at his ceiling. He had been thinking his problem over, and he had come to one inevitable conclusion. His genius was what was causing so many problems between him and Don, and as long as he was smart, Don would never like him. There could only be one logical path to take: Charlie had to stop being smart.

The very idea scared him. He had always felt comfortable with numbers, felt as though they were the only things that made sense in a life of whirlwind confusion. They were what he knew best. Turning away from them felt an awful like turning away from friends; at least, that was what Charlie imagined it would feel like.

But when it came right down to it, there was no choice. Between numbers and his brother, Charlie would always choose Don. Family came first. Don came first. And if Don wanted him to be normal, he would do that for him.

Explaining the sudden change would be hard. Charlie supposed he could simply tell people, when they asked, that he just didn't have the numbers anymore. They wouldn't believe him at first, but if he could just keep at it, he was sure he would convince everybody in the end.

Then maybe Don wouldn't hate him anymore.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three 

". . . the integer is then factored into this quantity, leaving the answer to be . . . anybody? Charlie?"

Charlie's head shot up in surprise upon hearing his name called. Casting a quick look over the board, the correct answer came immediately to his lips. Pausing, he shook his head and ventured an answer. "Um . . . three?"

Every head in the classroom turned to look at him. Charlie sank down slightly, but maintained an innocent look on his face.

Mr. Williams frowned in confusion. "Ah . . . try again, Charlie. Look carefully."

Charlie squinted at the board, pretending to be thinking hard about the answer. "Four?"

Someone snickered in the back of the room, but it was quickly stifled at a stern look from the teacher. Mr. Williams turned a concerned gaze onto his prized pupil, then looked out at the rest of the room. "Does anyone else have an answer?"

Charlie listened with half an ear as someone else called out the correct answer, cringing inside. Not being able to use his gift was eating at him from the inside out. It would be so easy to forget . . . so easy to go back to using his numbers . . .

No! Charlie shook himself. He pictured his big brother in his head, first defending him from Dylan Bradley, then yelling at him on the way home. It would be worth it in the end. He just had to be strong.

The bell rang, and Charlie quickly grabbed his backpack and took off out of the classroom before Mr. Williams could stop him. He didn't feel like explaining himself to anyone, and if he could avoid the confrontations, he would be just fine.

Mr. Williams' class was Charlie's last class of the day, and since it was Friday, that meant an entire two days with no school. Relieved to no end about being out of the public eye for the next couple days, Charlie rushed to his locker for the books he would need for the weekend. Once he had what he needed, he ran through the halls and outside to his usual meeting place with Don by the bike racks.

Don was standing impatiently, arms folded and foot tapping. As soon as his eyes fell on his hopeful younger brother's face, he turned without a word and began to walk in the direction of their home.

Charlie's face fell when he realized that Don still wasn't talking to him. He had hoped that, with a day going by, he would have calmed down enough to at least say hello. It would seem that Charlie had really messed up this time.

The walk home was spent completely in silence. Don was not in the least bit interested in talking to Charlie, and Charlie lacked the courage to find his voice. He simply walked several paces behind Don, careful not to make a sound. He didn't want to incur his brother's wrath again.

Mary was waiting outside for the boys when they reached home. She smiled warmly at her sons, kissing Don's cheek and reaching out to hug Charlie. "How was school, guys?"

Don shrugged. "Fine."

Charlie didn't answer. Mary felt his forehead, then cupped his cheek. "How are you feeling today, sweetheart? Any better?"

Charlie caught the angry look on Don's face and felt his stomach lurch a little. "Um . . . a little. I need to go do some, um . . . something in my room."

He slipped away from his mother and all but ran into the house. He didn't stop until he was safely in his room, flinging his backpack to the ground and flopping down onto his bed.

So far, he was hardly making headway on his plan. It was turning out to be much more difficult than he thought it would be. The numbers were swirling around in his head, pushing to pour out onto whatever writing surface Charlie could find. It seemed that everywhere he looked, there were numbers.

_Twenty minutes to walk to school._

_Fourteen houses, a gas station, and a small grocery store spread out in a five-  
block stretch between home and school._

_The increasing rate of students entering the school, proportional to the climbing hour as the time neared for the bell to ring._

_The number of steps he took to and from school._

_The number of lockers and ratio to students, as well as the faculty to student ratio._

Charlie squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands tightly to his face, trying to block out the calculations in his mind. He had to find a way to shut it off. He had to find a way to make it leave him alone. Or at the very least, to make them quieter in his head. If this kept up, he would never convince Donnie that he was normal.

* * *

Before Charlie even realized it, an entire week had gone by. It seemed to have passed him in a haze. He was dimly aware of his teachers' curious looks and tentative questions, and caught the occasional concerned glance from his mother, but he was so focused on deliberately hiding his abilities that he had little energy to pay them much mind.

He had tried to strike up a conversation with Donnie a couple times more, but Donnie had noticed the confusion and concern surrounding his little brother. Seeing the extra attention he was being paid had fed into Don's bitter resentment. Any attempts on Charlie's part to talk had been brushed off or downright ignored. In front of their parents, Don behaved lukewarm, but as soon as they were gone, Don went right back to being cold.

Charlie was confused. He had hidden all signs of his genius from everyone, and had acted like he thought a normal eight-year-old boy should. Instead of making Don like him, it was making things worse. That made no sense to Charlie at all. The entire ordeal frustrated the boy to no end, causing him to be distracted and much quieter than usual.

The walks to school in the morning and back home in the afternoon were not any better. Donnie continued to ignore him. School, too, was much more difficult. With his being deliberately obtuse, Charlie was having a hard time enduring the taunts from the other students. What had really stung was when three teenagers had pushed him around and ridiculed him mercilessly, all within earshot of his older brother. Charlie had made eye contact with Donnie for the first time since the week before, but Donnie had turned and walked away, leaving Charlie to take care of himself.

Charlie headed out of his fourth period class, but instead of going to lunch, he turned and headed upstairs for the second floor boys' room. It was barely used, and Charlie had taken to hiding out in the stall furthest from the door during breaks and some lunches. He was frequenting the bathroom more this week than he had all year, finding some solace in his hiding place.

Locking the stall, Charlie hung his backpack up and pulled out his lunch. Sitting on the floor with his back to the door, he began to pick at his food. As he forced himself to eat, a small part of him wondered how much longer he would have to endure all this before Donnie finally talked to him again. Charlie hoped it was soon. He wasn't sure how much more he could take.

* * *

Mary hung up the phone and cast a confused glance to her husband. Alan met her eyes, worry causing lines in his face. "Mary? What's wrong?"

"That was Charlie's trig teacher, Mr. Williams," Mary replied. "He just called because he was concerned about Charlie's behavior this past week in school."

"Behavior?" Alan echoed. "What, is he being disruptive?"

"No, nothing like that," Mary answered. "He said that Charlie's grades have slipped, that he's failing quizzes and a test. Mr. Williams also said that Charlie is behaving as though he doesn't have a clue how to do math anymore."

Alan's frown deepened. "Why would he do that?"

Mary sat at the table with her husband. "I have no idea. Do you suppose maybe we're putting too much pressure on him, having him go to high school with Don at his age?"

"Charlie would have told us if there was a problem," Alan told her. "Besides; he was so excited to go to school with Donnie. Why would that have changed?"

"I don't know," Mary said again. She looked down at her hands, then back up at Alan. "Mr. Williams suggested perhaps having Charlie tested again, just in case this problem is genuine."

Alan nodded. "All right. We can do that, just to be on the safe side. I'll call and have it scheduled as soon as possible."

Mary reached out and squeezed Alan's hand just as Don entered the room. Seeing his parents' worried looks, he paused. "What's wrong?"

"Donnie, have you noticed anything unusual about your brother lately?" Alan asked.

Don shook his head. "No, why? What's going on?"

With a glance to Alan, Mary related to her firstborn what they knew. When she finished, Don was shaking his head.

"He's faking it," he stated. "He's got to be. He can't just lose something like that."

"Why would he pretend?" Alan countered sternly.

Don shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he's doing it for attention or something. Who knows?"

"Donnie . . . " Alan said, a warning in his voice.

Don affected an innocent look. "What? Look, Charlie's not sick, and he hasn't lost his gifts. Whatever he's dealing with will blow over, and he'll be back to normal again in no time. You're worrying over nothing."

Alan and Mary exchanged looks, each relaying the thought that, somehow, they didn't think it would be that simple.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four 

Dr. Timothy Edwards stood and shook hands with the Eppes as they entered his office. Once they had taken a seat, he sat behind his desk and pulled a file closer to him.

"I know you're anxious to hear the results, so I'll dispense with the formalities," Edwards stated. "I've been over them several times, and to be honest, I'm still a little confused."

"What about?" Mary asked.

Edwards opened the file. "Charlie was given the same tests as when his genius was first diagnosed. Now, his scores should have stayed within a specific range, but his IQ seems to have dropped severely."

"I don't understand what you're saying," Alan stated. "Are you telling me he's not gifted?"

"Not exactly," Edwards replied. "According to his test results, Charlie's IQ is actually lower than other boys and girls his age. It tells me that Charlie is actually operating on a pre-kindergarten level."

Mary shook her head. "That can't be right."

Edwards set the file aside and folded his hands before him. "I'm inclined to agree. That's why I would like a psychologist to come in and speak with Charlie. I believe whatever difficulties Charlie is experiencing isn't from a drop in IQ. It could be stress. But we won't know unless someone can speak with him."

Alan and Mary exchanged glances, then nodded.

Edwards smiled reassuringly. "I actually have someone in mind. She's one of the best in her field. I'll send her over some of the pictures Charlie drew for his test and have her take a look at them. Hopefully, we can get some answers for you pretty soon."

* * *

Charlie looked up at the person who entered the playroom, his brown eyes studying the newcomer with curiosity and suspicion. He knew he had failed his test, and he had hoped that that would be enough to convince the doctors and his parents that he was a normal boy, but for some reason, they wanted him to speak with this new doctor.

She was a young woman, in her mid-twenties, with long blond hair tied up in a ponytail. She had a wide, trusting expression on her face, her blue eyes sparkling with good humor. She smiled welcomingly at Charlie as she took a chair across from him.

"Hi, Charlie, I'm Alex," she introduced herself. "I'm just here to talk to you about a couple things."

Charlie nodded. He didn't feel comfortable enough to talk.

Alex didn't seem put off by his lack of response. "So, Charlie, I understand that you have some very special gifts for someone your age."

"Had."

A thin eyebrow quirked up. "Had. How does it make you feel, now that they're all gone?"

Charlie shrugged. "I guess I'll have to go back to being a normal kid, for a change."

Alex nodded. "Yes, you would definitely get to be with own kids your age. Go to grade school, no longer be with your brother at the high school." She took note of the slight flicker of emotion in Charlie's expressive eyes. "Can I ask you something, Charlie?"

Charlie shrugged again.

"Are you close with your brother?"

The flicker again. Charlie swallowed hard and glanced to the side. "Sometimes."

Alex nodded knowingly. "It's hard for siblings to get along. I never got along with my brother, but we're great friends now. I bet it's harder for you, though, with your gifts."

"They're not a problem anymore," Charlie pointed out.

"_Were_ they?"

Charlie fidgeted, and Alex knew she was getting close to the root of Charlie's problems. She saved Charlie from having to answer, not wanting him to shut down on her. Instead, she decided to change the direction of the conversation, see if she could get Charlie to speak more. "What's your brother's name?"

"Donnie."

"Do you two do things together?"

Charlie stared at her curiously. Finding nothing but honest interest in her face, he answered the question. "He's teaching me to play basketball."

"You any good?" Alex wanted to know.

A small smile graced Charlie's lips. "Yeah, Donnie's a great teacher. He taught me everything, and he lets me win sometimes, even though I'm getting better at it. He even promised he would take me to an actual game sometime. I can't wait. It'll be so much fun. We'd be like normal brothers, like everyone else."

Alex caught the word 'normal' again, and filed it away for future reference. "When was the last time you two played together?"

The smile and ease that was slowly growing on Charlie suddenly faded sharply away. He looked down at the tabletop, not meeting Alex's eyes. "Um . . . n-not for awhile."

"Oh?" Alex replied. "How come?"

Charlie was silent for a long moment before responding. "He, um . . . he's been r-really busy with school, and baseball p-practice, and . . ."

Alex shifted the focus yet again. "Baseball? Is Donnie a good baseball player?"

Charlie's head shot up. "He's the best player they've got!" he avowed with the conviction only a loyal little brother possessed.

"Ever watch him practice?" Alex asked.

Charlie froze. Alex could see tears start to well up in Charlie's eyes before he ducked his head again. "Um . . . . no."

Alex's eyes flickered to the two-way mirror on the opposite wall, where she knew Charlie's parents and Dr. Edwards were watching the whole scene. "Well, Charlie, thank you for answering my questions. I truly enjoyed talking to you, and I hope everything works out like you hope."

Charlie nodded, not looking up. Rising, Alex moved to the door and headed for the observation room.

Mary met her on her way out the door. "Excuse me," she said, hurrying past Alex.

Alex let her pass, then approached Alan and Edwards. Before either man could speak, Alex focused on Alan. "Mr. Eppes, could I ask you a couple questions?"

Alan nodded, worry plain on his face. "Go ahead. Whatever might help."

"Can you tell me about Don and Charlie's relationship?" she asked.

Alan ran a hand through his dark hair. "Don's eight years older than Charlie. Charlie just adores Don; always has. Please, what's going on with my son?"

Alex nodded as she processed the information. "I think I may have an answer for you. At least, a part of one. I believe part of the problem lies in that relationship. Charlie obviously loves his brother, but when I asked about them spending time together, he became evasive. Have they had a falling out recently?"

Alan shook his head, eyes focused inward. "I don't think so. I haven't heard any arguments, and neither of my boys mentioned having a fight."

"Do you think this drop in IQ is genuine?" Edwards asked.

Alex shook her head. "No. He may be avoiding using his talents, but they show themselves in other ways. I saw those pictures of his you sent me before speaking with him, and the patterns he used are entirely too advanced for an eight-year-old boy. No, he's suppressing them on purpose, and I think it has something to do with a fight he and his brother may have had."

"What makes you so sure?" Alan asked, glancing through the mirror at his son. Mary had entered the playroom and was sitting with Charlie, speaking softly to him.

"The way he's fixated on being normal," Alex replied. "Someone had to have planted that idea into his head, and combined with his reactions when I asked about his brother, I think the answer lies there. Is there any way to have Don and Charlie come in for a joint observation and evaluation?"

Alan nodded, still looking through the mirror at his son. Charlie, as if feeling his father's eyes on him, looked up at the mirror.

* * *

Don glanced around the room for what seemed like the millionth time, still wondering what he was doing here. His parents had explained how the doctors had wanted to speak with the both of them together, but he couldn't imagine why. Charlie was the one who was special; he had nothing to do with that.

Charlie was sitting on the other side of the room at the table, staring down at the paper before him. He hadn't spoken a word to Don, but to be fair, Don hadn't said anything to Charlie, either. The room was completely and utterly quiet, and the silence was beginning to grate on Don's nerves.

"So how much longer do you suppose this doctor will be?" Don asked, his voice holding impatience in its tone.

Charlie shrugged, scribbling something on the paper.

Don's brow furrowed, and he drew nearer to his brother. "What're you doing? Math?"

Charlie shook his head emphatically. "Why would I do that? I can't do it anymore."

Don rolled his eyes and sat at the table. "Come on, Charlie, admit it. This is all a scam to get everyone to focus on _you_ again, to get their attention."

Charlie's shoulders tightened with tension. "I told you, Donnie. The math's gone. I'm a normal kid again."

Don snorted. "If that were true, then we wouldn't even be here. So why don't you snap out of this, admit you've been lying all this time, and we can go home."

Charlie gripped his pencil so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. "I can't do that, Donnie."

"Oh yeah?" Don snapped back. "Why not?"

"Aren't you listening?" Charlie demanded, dropping his pencil and looking up at Don. "The math is gone! I'm not special anymore! I'm not a freak! I'm just a normal kid, just like you wanted me to be!"

Don stared in shock at Charlie. Charlie, slowly realizing what it was he had said, paled and jumped to his feet. He crossed over to the door, but Don leaped up and grabbed his arm, stopping him. He knelt on the ground and turned his brother around to face him.

Charlie tried to shake off Don's hands, but Don tightened his grip. "What did you just say?" Don asked quietly.

"Nothing," Charlie muttered. "Forget it."

"Charlie, _what did you just say_?" Don repeated, more forcefully.

Tears spilled onto Charlie's cheeks, and he finally met his brother's gaze. "You said you wished I were normal, and that I weren't a freak, and now I'm not, and you still hate me, and I don't know what to do anymore, I can't figure out what you want, and-."

"Hey, hey," Don interrupted Charlie's sudden flow of words. "Where did you get the idea that I hate you?"

Charlie sniffed and rubbed his eyes. "You're always mad at me. I know my math makes you mad, and I tried not to do it anymore, but it's so hard. I'm so sorry, Donnie, I promise I won't use it again! I'll be a normal kid, and I'll stop doing the math. Please, don't be mad at me anymore. I'll do better, I swear I will!"

Their argument from over a week ago flashed through Don's mind, and he felt a large wave of guilt flood through him. He pulled Charlie into a fierce hug, feeling his brother start to cry into his shoulder.

"Oh, Charlie, I'm so sorry," he said. "I never should have said those things to you. I was upset, but I never should have taken it out on you. You didn't do anything wrong. You've never done anything but be a great brother to me, even after I treated you so horribly."

Charlie wrapped his arms tightly around Don's neck, clutching at his brother's shirt. "I didn't mean to make you so upset at the baseball practice. I just wanted to help."

"I know, Buddy, I know," Don replied. "And you did. I was just jealous."

"Jealous?" Charlie echoed. "Of what?"

"Of you." Don pulled back and looked into Charlie's stunned eyes. "You're so smart, and you were able to figure all that stuff out about how I should stand and where, and after only a few minutes. I have to work twice as hard as you at the same thing, just to break even with you."

Charlie frowned, still confused. "But . . . Donnie, you've got all those friends, and you're so popular- everybody likes you, and you're, like, the best athlete in the school!"

Don chuckled. "I guess I don't see it that way. Maybe I should. Listen, Buddy, don't pretend and hide your gifts anymore. Your math is a part of who you are, and if you hide that, you're not being honest with yourself. You should always be proud of the things that you can do. Don't let stupid people like your big brother make you ashamed of that, all right?"

Charlie's expression became indignant. "You're not stupid, Donnie!"

"No, but I was doing a great impression of it these past couple of weeks." Don stood and lifted his brother up into his arms. "Are we better now?"

Charlie nodded and wrapped his arms back around Don, resting his head on his brother's shoulder. "Does this mean we can go home now?"

Don sighed wearily, knowing he was in for a long talk with his parents. "Yeah, Buddy, let's go home."


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

" . . . he shoots , and he scores! The crowd goes wild! Charlie Eppes has done it again!"

Charlie laughed as Don retrieved the ball and returned to slap a high five with his brother. It was late in the evening, the sun just setting low in the sky. Streaks of red, orange, and purple set the sky ablaze overhead.

Don tossed the ball onto the grass, then flopped down beside it. "I think you've finally done it, Charlie. You've worn me out. I don't think I can move."

Charlie fell onto the grass beside his brother. "Are you nervous for your first big game tomorrow?"

Don rolled his head around to face Charlie. "Nah. How could I be? We've got you on our side."

Charlie beamed. "You mean that?"

Don smiled back. "Sure I do. With you and Coach Thomas studying our opponents, there's no way we can lose."

Charlie's smile widened, and he lay on the grass next to his brother. "I can't wait to see you play. You're gonna be great."

"Thanks, Buddy," Don replied quietly.

A comfortable silence descended on them both as they watched the colors slip away from the sky, leaving behind countless stars twinkling brightly in the sky. They stayed outside until Alan finally called for them to come in for the night. Don jumped up, tugging Charlie to his feet, then chasing him into the house. The sound of their laughter filled the air.

THE END 


End file.
